The Original Sweetheart
by ItsHayffieSweetheart
Summary: The story behind the making of Effie Trinket and her relationship with Haymitch Abernathy.
1. Chapter 1

People will always question why one would become an escort for tributes in the Hunger Games. They will always judge those who make the choice to become one. Originally Effie Trinket was like that, judgemental. She was not the type of person who enjoyed watching the events of the Hunger Games every year. She hated watching the Reaping's, unlike her mother, who made it tradition to watch them with the whole family around. They would make bets about what age the victors from each district would be, they would cheer when they got it right. Her mother would then pass around a piece of paper and everyone would write the name of which tribute they would think would be the next victor. It made her feel sick to the stomach. Effie once asked her mother why they got so much joy out of it, and her mother answered her and said "They deserve it." Whilst Effie watched the Reaping's, there was one part she enjoyed, seeing the escorts. Living in the Capitol she was used to seeing the highest of fashion and colourful clothing and hairstyles, but the Escorts were different. Not only did they look dazzling, they held themselves and spoke with such confidence that they intrigued her. She would sit so close to the screen and focus on every part of each Escort. With pen and paper she would draw them all, down to the tiny sparkling gems on their cheeks. After the Reaping's finished she would race off to her room and create outfits based on that of the Escorts. She showed her mother them, and she laughed at them, calling them outrageous. Effie never gave up, and after years of watching the Hunger Games and creating outfits, Effie decided that she would become an Escort and get recognised by the whole of Panem.

1.

What will mother think? My voice inside my head rang aloud. I always thought that when I was proposed to it would be by someone I loved, but staring at the ring on my finger I couldn't manage to say the words "I love you" aloud. I had never given marriage much thought. Most of my life I have been looking working constantly to become an escort, and now it was finally happening. I haven't even known him that long, why was he proposing? There is a knock at my door and I pull myself up reluctantly. "Congratulations!" My mother sings when I open the door, her piercing blue eyes shining. She shuffles past me as I stare at her speechless. How had she heard already? She grabs my hand and holds my ring finger up to the light overhead, "Oh Effie, it is beautiful!" She squeals. I yank my hand away, "thank you Mother." She falls onto the settee and smiles at me, "So I was thinking, next week for the wedding?" I had picked up one of my silk scarves and let it drop to the floor in surprise. "What? What is the rush?!" I exclaim, my voice catching, "I am getting assigned to a district next week and then I am travelling there for the Reaping, you know that mother!"

My mother shakes her head and throws her hands up in exasperation, "Effie, you are to be married. A married woman cannot be an escort! I thought you would rethink this whole Escort business, you should come and work with me, and it would be much more than working in the Hunger Games dear."

Her words make me realise how much she didn't want me to be an escort, she had obviously arranged the engagement and was determined to get me married off sharp.

"I can't believe you mother!" I shout, "I am going to become an escort and everyone will know my name, you wait and see" I yank the ring off of my finger and launch it across the room "and the engagement is off!"

My mother stands up, exhaustion shown clearly on her face, "Very well Effie, I have tried to reason with you. You could have had a good life, a good husband."

I sigh "Mother, I will have a good life and a good husband. I'm just not ready to be tied down to someone."

My mother is now at the door, she turns before she leaves and says "Well, when you are ready to be tied down to someone Effie, make sure he is not someone from outside the Capitol. And promise me he won't be addicted to Morphling, or worse."

"What could be worse?" I ask

She laughs slightly "An alcoholic of course."

I never wanted to be assigned to District Twelve. I had wanted maybe One or Two, but none more than Seven. Nobody won from District Twelve, well apart from Haymitch Abernathy, but I was convinced his winning was just luck. None the less I was stuck working with him. I remember the first time I met him, In the Justice Hall at District Twelve. He had had a few drinks but was in a perfectly good state. I couldn't stop the look of disapproval from my face when I saw him. I had remembered the young man who won the last Quarter Quell, the man in front of me was not that. He has stubble dotted along his slightly pointed chin, his greasy blonde hair falls messily into his ice blue eyes. He held a dirty looking hand out toward me, meaning for me to shake it. Instead I introduce myself keeping my hands behind my back. Haymitch looks puzzled at me, then shrugs picking up his drink and leans on the desk beside where he was standing. "You think you are too high class to shake the hand of a victor?" He raises his eyebrows. I hold my hands up to show him the gloves on my hands, "These are perfect silk" I say, expecting him to understand but he seems bored and he shrugs.

"Couldn't care less sweetheart." He says, his voice bitter. I clench my fists at my sides, I wasn't letting him talk to me like that, "I can assure you Mr Abernathy that I definitely am not a sweetheart" I snap my fingers at him, thought they do not snap because of the silk of my gloves. Haymitch refilled his glass, the smell of liquor clings to my throat. "Well then, Mrs…"

"Miss!" I correct him.

Haymitch clears his throat, "Sorry Miss Tinker…"

"Trinket my last name is Trinket!"

"And this is getting boring" He says and then waves his hand dismissively at me. I turn to check my reflection in the mirror, I have to make a good impression on my first Reaping.

"What is with the wig?" Haymitch thinks aloud. I shoot him a hard glance

"It is quite the style in the Capitol, not that you are remotely interested in the way I dress or why I dress like that." Haymitch laughs a little but doesn't say anything. I didn't see why everyone outside the Capitol thought it strange to wear colourful hair in place of your own. I pull the small extra blue flyaways from my hair, smoothing them into the loose bun. My eyeshadow matches my hair, as does my lips. One would think that the people of the districts would make more of an effort to look better. I set my lips in a thin line feeling the gaze of Haymitch steady on the back of my head. I top up my make-up, the time on the clock reads two minutes until the Reaping starts. I turn to Haymitch, to find he has already left the room. A slight sigh comes from my mouth for a reason unknown to me. Perhaps I wanted someone to be at my side as I step out to Reap my tributes. Another quick glance in the mirror, and I give myself a mini thumbs up, and rehearse my smile.

"C'mon then, the kids are just dying to see you" Haymitch's voice from the doorway makes me spin around. He leans carelessly against the door frame, like he needs it to keep him standing. I smooth down my turquoise blouse and stride past him, as I pass I catch the mixed smell of tobacco and liquor (and the slightest smell of dampness). He coolly catches up with me and puts his hand lightly on my left puffy shoulder pad "Why in the world would a young thing like you want to do this?" He asks, spitting on me a little. I take out a handkerchief and wipe my cheek. "It's none of your business, Haymitch" I say, practically hissing his name, not hiding my annoyance at his forwardness.

"One day it will be" He says. We stop in front of the huge doors. Haymitch turns to me.

"Showtime."


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Why did I ever want to be an escort? Of course my image made me known, but it hadn't made me feel the way I thought I would. I thought I would feel bold and beautiful. But knowing that you are training kids up for death is soul destroying. No wonder Haymitch is so bitter, I can't blame him for turning to the drink. Thought, that is a sign of weakness. I am Effie Trinket, and Effie Triket sees things through. I would make a victor, I just had to wait for my luck to turn. Mother insists every year that I retire, find a more 'suitable' job for a lady of my class. I'm not giving up. I think she is worried over me getting older and still not be married nor have had any children. After being escort, the thought of having children was unthinkable. I couldn't be a mother knowing that my children won't ever need to participate in the horribleness of the Games, whilst other innocent children get slaughtered for entertainment.

I smell the alcohol as soon as I enter, I don't need inquire about who else is here. Even being in the other room, I can still sense his presence.

"Effie Tinker" Haymitch's voice calls from the opposite room. After he had got my name wrong when we first met, he liked to call me it to annoy me, and sure enough it works.

"Haymitch Abernathy" I say heading towards the room he is in, because knowing Haymitch I'd have to wait all day for him to greet me. Haymitch is slouching in a green armchair, holding his trademark glass of scotch.

"Effie, sweetheart, it has been so long" He is a little drunk.

"Too long, Haymitch, far too long" I play along. I'll admit Haymitch drives me round the bend, I certainly wouldn't be the type of person to talk to him if we didn't have to work together- but once you get used to him he's easier to handle.

"I see you are trying out pink this season?" He mocks my hair. Typical Haymitch, always the charmer.

"At least that alcohol isn't affecting your eyesight. How much have you had?" I say. Haymitch looks at his glass puzzled, then up at me and back down to the glass again. He tips the remainder of the glass into his mouth and stands up clumsily, heading toward the liquor cabinet.

"Not enough!" He declares. I take a seat on the opposite couch, keeping my posture as at least I remember my manners. "And why is that?" I ask. He has refilled his glass and strolls back to his chair, humming a tune while doing it. He is still humming and I look at him, waiting patiently for his answer. He raises his eyebrows at me, exposing his still young looking eyes, "You can look but you can't have" He says. I shake my head, he is obviously too intoxicated to have a decent conversation with. I stand to leave and he grabs my hand. I try to pull it free but he has a firm grip. He often does this when he can't function words, but wants something, usually more alcohol.

"What is it?" I say still trying to pull my wrists out of his rough hands. He lets go and opens his arms out, as if welcoming an embrace. "Hug goodbye?" He slurs. I tut dissaprovingly,

"No Haymitch, that's quite alright." I say and then leave the room. He sings an unfamiliar song to himself and it echoes around the building.

I can hear the soft murmur of the children lining up for the Reaping. What lucky couple would I have this year? I am determined to make a victor this year, not just for myself, but for Haymitch because he could finally retire. Each year since I started working for him, he his drinking problem had gotten worse. I barely see him sober. When he is sober I can get relatively along with him.

Haymitch's singing has stopped; he has probably dozed off in his drunken state. I should wake him, for he has to be on stage during the Reaping. I turn on my heel, and walk into Haymitch's chest. How had he moved so silently.

"Preparing to kill innocent children? Nervous are we?" He smirks, pushing greasy hair out of his once beautiful face.

"Why must you be so harsh about it Haymitch?" I shake my head, suddenly exhausted. The thought of going through the same thing over again, watching the kids train to die. It all just drains me. "We are giving them opportunity" I manage to say, straightening my posture.

"I may be the drunk one Effie, but do you hear how ridiculous you sound sweetheart?" Haymitch slurs. A bleak light comes through the windows of the Justice Building, I stand and look out at the kids, lining up like being in front of the firing squad.

"I hate the Games Haymitch" I find myself saying moments later, my voice catches slightly. I hear Haymitch draw in a breath but he remains speechless. "I just wanted to be more than a girl from the Capitol. The Games gave me that opportunity, to show the world who I am." Why was I saying all of this, and in front of Haymitch of all people. He probably couldn't register anything in his drunken brain.

"Because everyone knows who Effie Trinket is, because she is such a great escort" Haymitch says harshly. I feel my throat tighten, and my eyes sting slightly. I clench my hand at my side, pushing away the thought of punching Haymitch right where he stood to the back of my mind. Anyway, it wasn't lady like.

"They will Haymitch. One day everyone in Panem will know my name."

The Capitol film starts and I glance out to the terrified faces of the crowd, knowing that two of them are going to be taken away from home, most likely never to return. I take a moment to look down at myself, had I really become as horrible as the people who enjoyed the Games? Haymitch had managed to get on stage and seated. Thankfully.

The film ends and I have the focus of the audience back on me, the cameras too.

I think of my Mother, shaking her head disapprovingly when she watches the Reaping's later tonight. At her disappointment of a daughter, who refused again to marry another man she picked out. All she wants is to see me married with children, but I'm not ready for that type of commitment. Plus I have this feeling, this tight knotting feeling when I am around anyone who Mother might think suitable as a husband. "I'm not getting any younger Effie" She had said to me when I returned home last. I tried to reason with her, but she made me swear that if I didn't come close to winning this year, I would marry whoever she chose. Even more a reason why I need a victor this year. If Haymitch can win, anyone can win. The thought of that, of marrying someone my Mother would be _happy _for me to marry filled me with a sense of dread. For she had married Father, and he wasn't exactly the best person for her. That's another reason I hate Haymitch's drinking, alcohol killed my father.

I say my speech and finish with "May the odds be ever in your favour!" as I say this line someone taps my shoulder. I turn to see who it is and Haymitch Grabs my shoulders and pulls me into a tight hug, knocking my wig askew. I try to push him away but he whispers softly into my ear two simple words that make my heart jump "I'm sorry" His breathe is warm against the cold air and covers my neck in tiny goose bumps. I push him away and fix my wig, but my head is spinning. Couldn't he have waited until after the Reaping to apologize for his inappropriate behaviour earlier. Some part of me however feels that that was more than an apology. It was more like a sympathetic comment. I push it to the back of my mind, I have business to do. "Ladies first" I say, swiftly moving on to reaping the Tributes.

Maybe this year I could potentially have a winner. Bravery was something needed in the Games, and my did Katniss Everdeen have it. Plus, Peeta Mellark showed such eagerness that I think the both of them have a good chance of getting close to winning. At least for my own selfish reasons, that's I all I needed them to be, close to winning. Though a winner would do a great deal of good for Haymitch and I. I don't think the girl likes me, though in her case why would she? The boy I'm not sure of, if he doesn't he doesn't show it. I haven't spoken to Haymitch since his drunken embarrassment, but I can still feel his breath on my neck. The warmth of his arms around me. Even though he was drunk there was a reason why he done it. I realize that I can hear Haymitch singing in his room, which is practically through the room from me. By the sounds of it, Peeta is in there too. I would not like to think of what horrible mess Haymitch has got himself into this time. He stops singing and I find that his voice was somehow comforting, and now an eerie silence accompanies me. The train moved so soundlessly that you could hear a pin drop and it would sound like an echo. I had escused myself some time earlier, and now I was meant to be looking over the schedule, checking we were on time, and would arrive in the Capitol on time. But I can't make myself stand up. I feel weak all over. I come to the conclusion that I am in fact a horrible person. Katniss volunteered to take her sisters place, I can't imagine the pain her mother must be feeling. Nor can I imagine how Katniss herself is feeling. When Katniss volunteered, I felt a tug at my heart. The love and protectiveness shown clearly on her bronzed skin. It made me think, if I had been a child of the districts, no one would have done anything like that for me, not even my own sister. It made me wonder if anyone would mind if I just vanished off the face of the earth? Thinking about it made me feel so alone. Mother was right, I needed to marry soon, even if it isn't out of love, at least I would have someone to look out for me. Everytime I think this, the image of Haymitch flashes across my mind. Like a reminder of something- not as if I'm being reminded that there is a drunk passed out next door- but something more than that. I've always felt a sort of connection between Haymitch and I, but it's more of a semi-friendship. The thought of him gets me up on my feet, and I find myself walking to his room in the absolute silence of the train. Apart from the groans he makes in his sleep every few minutes. Minutes later I am in his room, the moonlight illuminating his tired face. He looks much younger like this. Maybe it's because I can't see his eyes, the eyes that have seen more than any eyes should. My chest tightens at how vulnerable he looks, lying there quietly. He isn't peaceful however, he still dreams of the Games. I don't think the memories of being in the arena ever leave any person. It's nice though, to see him resting, not holding a stance-or a glass of poison- and being completely free in a sense. I have the sudden urge to move the strands of hair out of his face. I stop myself from doing this by turning my attention to something else. A notebook is peeking out from under his pillow. Curiously, I creep over, wanting to reveal its condense, I never thought of Haymitch as much of an artist. I reach my hand under his pillow, slightly moving his head. His eyes snap open, blue lights in the dark, and he is on his feet, knife in hand. In a panic, I reach the first thing that comes to me, which is a glass of water on the bedside table. I throw it over him just as he is about to throw the knife. It all happens in a seconds, but it played out in slow motion.

"It's just me Haymitch" I say, putting my hands up. He scans me then flicks the light on. He rubs his head, the water had obviously sobered him.

"Sorry I forgot to lock my door, but it seemed to slip my mind" Haymitch says looking from me down to his soaked night shirt.

"What slipped your mind?" I ask

"That you like to come into peoples rooms in the middle of the night and throw water over them" Haymitch goes through his small wardrobe, searching for something to change into. He seems to not find anything, and sits on the bed.

"Care to explain yourself, sweetheart?" He says. I stare at him shocked,

"Haymitch Abernathy what are you suggesting I came in here for?" I ask.

"Some may find my drunkenness… irresistible." He says, a grin slowly creeping across his face.

"To set the record straight, I came in to check you were still breathing, that is all" I say and make my way to the door, ready to excuse myself from the room.

"So why were you leaning over me then Sweetheart?" He asks. I shoot him an angry look.

"I saw that notepad and was curious."

Haymitch eyes search mine, making sure I am telling the truth, he decides I am. He nods, and says in a rougher accent than I'm used to "Okay." Haymitch had a District Twelve accent, but I hardly noticed it. But when he spoke certain words his roughness would creep into it. I wait another second, wondering if he might share what is in the notepad but he waves his hand dismissively.

"Goodnight Haymitch" I say opening the door.

"N'night Sweetheart"


	3. Thanks!

**Thanks to everyone who has read this! This is my first fanfic so reviews would be great, if there is anyone who has any suggestions/or if there is anything I can fix I am happy to take the advice! Thanks again and I will update as often as possible.**


	4. Chapter 4

I can hear the muffled voices in the dining cart from the opposite side of the door. Haymitch has appeared to have sobered up and is speaking with Katniss and Peeta. I enter the room and am greeted with the sweet smell of fruits and pastry. I catch the tail end of what Haymitch is saying, he sounds like he is lecturing Katniss. I have picked up a small ceramic cup and I'm ready to pour some hot water into it when he says it, and it drops out of my hand smashing on the floor. "Sweetheart" He had called Katniss Sweeetheart. I tut at myself for being so clumsy and bend down to pick up the broken pieces. Someone is at my side helping, at first I think it's Haymitch, but when I look at the hands I am somehow disappointed. Those are the hands of a young man. Peeta. "Thank you Peeta" I say as we pick up the tiny pieces of what was once a tea cup.

"Accidents happen." He says. He is the calmest tribute I've have ever met. The others were either incredibly ill because of fear, or incredibly ill because of the massive intake of rich foods. Both Katniss and Peeta were looking promising as potential victors. A small string pulls inside of me as I realise that if either Katniss or Peeta wins the games, then Haymitch will no longer have to work for the Games. However, if they don't win, I will be married off and start raising a family with someone I most likely not love. I want to know what love is before I marry, not learn how to do it.

"Little clumsy today are we?" Haymitch's gruff voice asks curiously once Peeta and I have cleared up the mess. I close my compact mirror that I had been checking my appearance in and meet Haymitch's dull eyes.

"Haymitch Abernathy, has no one ever told you how extremely rude you are?" I say completely ignoring his question, or rather more- remark. Haymitch shrugs,

"I have been told, loads of times, I don't care." He says taking a seat on one of the stools, keeping one foot on the ground. I draw my eyes off of him, disgusted.

"I don't know how anyone puts up with you" I snarl, very unlike myself, but frankly I am not in the mood to be nice to such an ignorant man.

"And yet, you're still here" He smirks. I feel my face flush in anger,

"If it were up to me, _Haymitch. _I wouldn't work with you if you were the last person in Panem! You are ignorant. You are rude. You are arrogant. And you are… You are…!" Drat. I forget another of his billion flaws.

"Undeniably handsome?" He says sarcastically, and stands up snatching his glass I hadn't noticed he had put on the table. He storms to the door, but before he goes he turns back to me. I don't think I have ever seen him look so angry and hurt at the same time. "D'you know Effie? I thought you were different from the others from the Capitol." He says. My head is in my hands and I don't bother to look up, "And why might that be?" I sigh, waiting for him to lecture me on the lifestyle of the Capitol citizens.

"I thought you had a heart"

The doors slide closed behind him. I sit there, with my head in my hands for a long time. I don't know what I think about, but I could feel Haymitch's words on my skin like a needle piercing through me.

I end at Haymitch's room door again, like I had the night previous. I am about to knock when I hear the footsteps coming toward the door, so I leap into my own room and slam the door closed. Haymitch seems to have drunken more alcohol as he has started his annoying singing again. I hear him stomp toward the dining cart and creep out of my room once I hear the doors slide shut. Katniss and Peeta made themselves scarce after breakfast and I haven't seen them since.

I am in Haymitch's room, I'm not completely sure why. I stand in the centre of the room that smells so much like Haymitch that it feels familiar, as familiar as my home in the Capitol. I see the notebook poking out from under his pillow and again wonder what its context is. I pull it out and run my fingers across the ruined cover and the fraying bindings. This book is old, very old. I sit down on the bed and open the book delicately. On the inside cover _Haymitch Abernathy _is printed beautifully in ink. I flick through the first few pages. The notepad seems like a school book. But why treasure an old school book so much? It would soon come apparent.

The first few pages are the last of a History lesson on the Dark Days and the creation of the Hunger Games. After that there are signatures, signatures of people I have never heard of. Surely one would get someone famous to sign something. These names look liked peoples of the Districts. Plain names, plain people with plain lives. I skip through four pages of signatures and then come to a page with another name I don't recognise as the heading. I read through it and I realise that this must have been a lover of Haymitch, who he loved very much. I suddenly feel bed for prying and move on, and there is yet another story about the beauty of another girl, and another… and another. Haymitch was quite the lady's man, not at all what I thought he was. In these stories he talks about their beauty and the sweetness of their voices. It was all very poetic and I wondered if Haymitch had possibly stole this from someone else, but I shake the thought out of my head. On the next page I find the name of District Twelve's last Escort and some rather unpleasant things about her. There are pages and pages of abuse for her. I finally reach the end of that and find a page that makes me nearly drop the book. The heading of the page is two words, as finely printed as his name;

_Effie Trinket__._


	5. Chapter 5

I slam the book closed and throw it back on the bed, a sick feeling in my stomach. I didn't read anything he had written, but I had seen the scribbly handwriting underneath it. He had most likely written horrible, nasty things about me. My blood starts to boil. I ought to confront him about this, ask him why he would write things about me. But then he would know I have been my nosy self, and that I have invaded his privacy. I stand up and smooth down my clothes and I take a deep breath. Then I walk out, and go back to the dining cart. Everyone is back in the cart, though nobody is talking. Katniss is playing with a loose thread of fabric off of one of the settee's. Haymitch is swirling the drink in his glass, watching it as he does. Peeta is looking out the window, fascinated by the clear blue sky outside. Nobody looks up as I come in. I don't say anything either as I cross the room to the small set of drawers and take out my schedule. The way we were going, we would be arriving in the capitol any moment…

"There it is!" Peeta exclaims, "Wow, it's huge" He says. I smile triumphantly at him admiring my home city. No one ever said that when arriving in District Twelve. Did I really just sound that harsh? That wasn't like me at all. I ignore my thought.

"Yes Peeta, we are here. Welcome to the Capitol."

A more than usual sized audience awaits us at the platform, all of them craning to catch a glimpse of someone. I smile my most dazzling smile I can. Perhaps finally people have realised my brilliance and want to see what extravagant outfit I have assembled on my person today. But no, these people aren't looking at me… they are looking at Katniss. They are looking at Peeta. Some of them are even glancing at Haymitch. But their eyes zoom past me. I wipe the smile from my face and push past the crowd, calling back to my party to move swiftly. Haymitch grunts something under his breath and Peeta tuts at him. I am past the point of caring what Haymitch thinks. Here is my place and he daren't insult me here. He already embarrassed me at the Reaping.

Swiftly, I escort this year's tributes and there so called Mentor to a car that awaits us. In the car I busy myself in my schedule and checking that everything is organised for today and until the Games. Haymitch doesn't bother to say anything, I glance up at him a few time to see him staring out the window, a look of disgust on his face. Peeta and Katniss don't speak either, but I notice Peeta tracing lines onto his trousers, tiny invisible patterns. Katniss sits still in the way she does when she is deep in thought. I realise, from looking at her, that Katniss is probably more grown up than I was at sixteen. Maybe Haymitch had reason to hate the Capitol; we never had to do much hard labour in our whole lives. Haymitch brings his eyes around to meet mine and I quickly move my attention onto my schedule again. I feel my cheeks redden for some unknown reason. I had to check and double check the schedule for the Tribute Parade this evening.

"We're here" The driver announces as the car slows.

"Kids, we're going to make you stars. But first we need to make you look as fake as possible" Haymitch snarls. "Heads up, the tweezers are unbelievably painful. Have fun"

"Haymitch!" I snap, "I will not stand for that type of talk. Peeta, Katniss, the stylists will make you look and feel gorgeous, trust me."

"Never trust someone from the Capitol" Haymitch says, not too nicely.

"Just because they didn't do a good job on you Haymitch" I say before I can stop myself. Haymitch's eyes darken. That is one of the meanest things that have ever come out my mouth. "Let's go, we have a lot to get through." I say and exit the car, Peeta and Katniss behind me. I glance back at the car to see Haymitch sitting still, like a bullet has been shot through his chest. I actually wait a few seconds to check that he is still breathing, and then hurry Peeta and Katniss away from the car. Leaving behind so many unspoken hurtful words that both Haymitch and I want to throw at each other.

Once Peeta and Katniss are in the good hands of the Stylists, Haymitch and I are driven (in silence) to the where we will be staying until the Games begin. I march ahead of Haymitch, into the elevator and up to the 12th floor and into my room. I go straight for a shower, enjoying the warm water running down my back, washing off the layers of make-up covering my face. This is the only time I enjoy not having make-up on, being able to feel the smoothness of my own face. Once I am showered and smell fresh like roses busy myself in getting ready. I put on my silk dress and then go to find the wig I had picked out in advance that goes perfectly with my outfit. Where did I put it? I am sure I put it on in along with my make-up box. I snatch my head around, my eyes searching every inch of the room for my wig. Where is it? I think frantically to myself. I glance at the time, if I don't find it soon, I would be late for the Parade. "Having trouble are we, Sweetheart?" Haymitch says from the doorway.

"Haymitch! Get out of my room!" I scream, thankful that there is a towel over my hair. I don't turn to face him as my face is bare.

"Thought maybe I could help you out. You look like you need some help." I hear him grin.

"You took it didn't you? Where did you put it?" I say, this time turning to him, my eyes burning into his.

"Calm down Sweetheart, I haven't taken whatever you have lost." He says, his eyes scanning my plain face. "I have to say, I hardly recognise you like this"

My face goes red. "Enough with the pleasantries, I have lost my wig!" I say pulling my belongings out of one of my bags.

"Effie" Haymitch says. I ignore him, I have no time for his stupidity just now. "Effie" He says again, a little worry in his voice.

"Haymitch, can't you see I don't have time…" I stop mid-sentence when I see his face, genuinely smiling an adorable smile that I never knew was possible to come from Haymitch.

"There is still a bag outside the room" He laughs, opening the door to reveal the bag that I know has my wig on it. I stand speechless for a second, embarrassed at the state I had allowed myself to get into. Haymitch lifts the bag from the hall and holds it out to me, I take it off of him, our hands touch and a bolt of electricity flows through me, warming my veins. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to ignore it but also enjoying the feeling. I don't even want to try and understand it, I barely understand anything anymore. I put the bag down on my bed.

"About earlier, I'm sorry 'bout the way I acted" Haymitch says sincerely.

"Apology accepted." I say.

"I don't know why I take it out on you Effie" He says. I'm taken aback.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"It's just, I'm such an idiot to you, I take out all my horrible feeling about the Capitol on you. I should

be hopeful for those kids."

"You said earlier that you thought I was different from everyone else in the Capitol. I am different Haymitch." I say.

"Looking at you, right now, I see it Sweetheart" He says, "Now you're going to go and Capitolize yourself." He sighs.

"I need to get ready, we'll be late" I say softly, and realise how close I am standing to him, and that I have resorted to looking at his shoes.

"See you there" Haymitch says, in a depressing tone, as he walks out the door.

"Don't sound so sad about it" I say.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Why should you?" I ask

"Two words, Sweetheart" Haymitch calls from the doorway of his room, "Ceasar Flickerman."

Once Haymitch leaves the room, I start plait my hair up and put my wig in place, then I apply my make-up. As Haymitch had said, I have _Capitolized _myself. I don't see what his problem was, but I'm glad we are speaking again. I wish we wouldn't fall out so often, we can't even go a day without saying an insult to each other. I slip my shoes on and pick up my schedule, amazingly we were going to be on time. There is a knock at my door; I expect to see an Avox, as the knock was so soft. I open it, startled to find Haymitch standing straight in a crisp suit, not a hair out of place. He looks so clean it takes me at least a minute to say anything to him. He looks amused at my startled face, his clear eyes shining in the bright light. For once he looked completely sober, and clean.

"Ready to go?" I ask, pushing past him and into the hallway.

"Not really, but what can I do?" Haymitch says. We cross the hall across to the elevator. Haymtich and I both go to press the button, my nail scratches Haymitch's hand as I pull away. "Sorry" I say. Haymitch shrugs, not looking at me. "S'okay" Haymitch says, his rough accent creeping into his voice. The doors slide open and we both step into it, I press the ground floor button.

"Haymitch?"

"Effie" Haymitch teases.

"Very funny, Haymitch. I was going to ask you what you have against Caesar?" I say.

"I can't stand the man" Haymitch says, "What is it with his hair and eyebrows?"

"I think he is very creative, you haven't gave him a chance Haymitch" I say

"I spoke to him for ten minutes three years ago. Trust me Sweetheart, I have given him a chance."

"Why don't you try speaking to him again tonight before the parade, or even before the interviews tomorrow?" I suggest. I do wish Haymitch would make more of an effort to make friends with people in the Capitol.

"I would, but I'll be too busy sticking pins in my eyes" He says.

"I did try" I say as the doors of the elevator open.

"You shouldn't bother, Effie. I ain't worth it." Haymitch steps out of the elevator. I stare blankly after him, shaking my head subconsciously. "Ain't you coming, Sweetheart?" Haymitch asks.

"Here we go" I say.

We meet Peeta and Katniss in costume at the carriages before the Tribute Parade. Cinna (the new stylist) is talking to them, mentioning something about fire. I give them thumbs up. We can't stay down here long, and Haymitch and I are required to stay at a screen to watch the parade. Fro down here I can hear the voices of the hundreds of thousands of people waiting to catch a glimpse of this year's Tributes. I look around the other Tributes, all in colourful costume and then back at my Tributes, dressed in black. Plain black. I hope Cinna has something spectacular planned, for District Twelve aren't usually the nicest dressed during the Parade. I had spoken to him before the Reaping, and he promised he was going to do something different, though he wouldn't indulge in his plans. Haymitch and I head up to the screening room, where we will watch the Parade live. There is a sofa for us to sit on, and snacks on a small table. Every District has their own room, it is a bad idea to put all the Districts together. Haymitch spies the drinks cabinet immediately and goes to it. I shouldn't be surprised, when he is stressed, annoyed, angry or sad he drinks. I sit myself down on the sofa and am about to bring out my schedule when the door is knocked. Haymitch and I exchange a confused look.

"I'll get it" Haymitch announces. He stalks toward the door and opens it slowly. I can't see who's behind the door, but Haymitch's face has dropped. "Can I help you" Haymitch asks. When the person behind the door starts talking, I recognise them straight away.

"I just wanted to pop round before the parade to visit the _lovely _Effie Trinket, and you of course Haymitch!" Ceasar Flickerman says cheerfully. I jump off the sofa and push Haymitch out of the way. This year Ceasar has dyed his eyebrows and hair blue.

"Ceasar, come in! Come in!" I say welcoming him in.

"Effie Trinket, lovely as ever!" Ceasar says charmingly, he takes my hands and kisses my cheek. "How have you been my dear?" Ceasar asks. Haymitch is back over at the drinks cabinet, I feel his eyes on us. I invite Ceasar to take a seat, he declines.

"I can't stay long, I'm on air soon." I never understood how Ceasar could stay so cheery all the time. "You look like you have promising Tributes this year Effie"

"They are lovely" I say.

"Now Effie, we both know they need to be more than lovely. Lucky for you, you don't have to be more than lovely." He says.

"Ceasar Flickerman, you're too charming." I say.

"Hopefully I will be seeing more of you this year, my dear" He winks. I feel myself blush,

"Maybe you will be" I say, leading him towards the door.

"May I point out before I go, that you are looking divine tonight." Ceasar raises his eyebrows.

"Thank you, Ceasar. I love what you've done with your hair this year, it's very royal."

"Farewell Effie Trinket, until we meet again." Caesar takes my hand and kisses it.

"Goodbye Ceasar. Good luck on air tonight" I say.

"I don't need luck, I have my looks" He says and then strides away. I close the door and turn around to see Haymitch staring at me through dark eyes. I realise I am smiling giddily.

"What?" I giggle slightly.

"Really?" Haymitch enquires. He sits down.

"Really what?" I ask, the smile sliding from my face.

"Him? Have you not hear the rumours about him?" I sit down too.

"Haymitch, we're friends. Plus, those rumours haven't been proven true." I say. The 'rumours' he was talking about were the ones about Ceasar being a womanizer, a ladies man.

"Just… watch what you're doing Sweetheart" He says. Complete shock takes over me, as the tone of Haymitch's voice is so heartfelt it stings me. A tension has begun to build up in the room. I am about to confront him, ask him why he has suddenly went into such a mood, when the screen on the wall comes to life. It displays the Seal of Panem and then we are greeted with Ceasar and Claudius Templesmith face.

Haymitch blows out an exasperated breath. I fold my arms over my chest as best I can.

"Can we forget about this?" I whisper softly watching Haymitch's creased face. He doesn't look at me. "Haymitch please, we have to stop arguing over silly little things" I reach out for him and he shrinks back like my touch is infectious. He looks at me now, right into my eyes and a look of longing flashes in his eyes, but is gone in a second. I wait patiently for a reply, the voice of Ceasar in the background not helping the mood.

"The Parade's about to start" Is all Haymitch says. I swallow hard and turn my face back to the screen.


End file.
